Page 39 of Painkiller (Sin Records #3)

“ G od, that feels so good.” A loud, heady moan escapes me for probably the millionth time in the last half hour.

My spirit feels as if it could leave my body with how relaxed I am.

I’m not sure I’ve been this stress-free in…

Well, okay, maybe last night when I passed out, but it wasn’t the same.

That was blissful exhaustion. This is otherworldly.

Jagger groans next to me, but it doesn’t sound nearly as serene. Quite the opposite. And if I weren’t drowning in bliss, I might ask him what’s wrong.

“Yes, right there. More of that. Oh my God, that’s perfect.” I don’t mean to be so vocal, but it feels so good, I can’t stop myself.

“Fuck, kill me now,” Jagger grumbles.

And all too soon it ends, and I’m being helped into a seated position as I adjust the towel over my breasts.

“You were quite tense, ma’am. You should probably come in once a week,” my massage therapist tells me as she gathers her supplies.

“You’re quite tight as well, sir,” Jagger’s masseuse says, but there’s a hint of tease—mischief in his tone. “Sorry, I couldn’t work out those knots. Perhaps next time you should come alone.”

Is he hitting on Jagger? My head tilts as I scrutinize the attractive male, a twinge of jealousy burning my stomach. Ridiculous, right?

“Yeah, no problem,” Jagger grumbles, but he hasn’t sat up yet.

“Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“You can leave,” Jagger hisses, his voice strained, and from the strained muscles of his back, I think his therapist was right. He’s tense.

“That was rude,” I scold when the door shuts behind them.

“No,” he growls, finally pulling himself up. “This is what’s rude.” He points to his dick tenting the sheet.

My brows furrow as I think back to his therapist’s playful tone. Did Jagger get turned on by him? It’s silly, but the reason he had a guy was because the thought of another girl touching him made me livid. Jagger thought my reaction was cute until he saw the man they assigned to me. So we switched.

It never occurred to me that he might be… “I didn’t expect you to be so comfortable with a guy,” I say, keeping my voice calm and casual.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He moves behind the screen, returning with our robes. My lips press together when I really see just how aroused he is.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m stereotyping, but aren’t most men uncomfortable with other men touching them while they’re naked? Straight men, anyway.”

“Only the douchebag homophobes, Halfpint.” He slips on his robe. “Do you know how uncomfortable I was with my dick digging into that table?”

“Yeah, I can imagine it’s not very comfortable. Do you always get…you know, aroused, when you get massages?”

His lips twitch as he crosses the room to the massage table I’m still sitting on, then braces his hands on either side of me. “Are you asking if I’m into men, Halfpint? Or are you asking if I am into that man?”

I cringe. Hard. Embarrassment floods my cheeks as I nod. “Both, maybe.”

He smirks, dropping his mouth to my ear. “Would it turn you on if I said I was into guys?”

Well, I didn’t think so, but suddenly vivid images of Timothy riding his cock while I ride his face pop into my mind.

When he chuckles, seeing the lust written across my face, my cheeks grow hotter.

“I don’t know what’s sexier. You jealous or you getting turned on at the thought of me railing some guy? ”

“How do you know I was picturing you railing him?”

“That’s why it won’t happen,” he boops my nose, but I realize he hasn’t really answered my question.

“So, are you? Into guys?”

“You are the first person I’ve been into since I was fifteen,” he says without an ounce of hesitation.

My heart stumbles a beat. It feels like he just shared a secret.

“But, yes, I’ve been with guys before. I am sexually attracted to both genders.

But this,” he grabs my hand, placing it over his crotch, “has nothing to do with Tommy.”

“Timothy,” I correct, then press my lips together when he tosses me a glare.

“This is because someone was making my favorite sex sounds, and it wasn’t for me. I can almost guarantee Timothy was just as fucking hard behind that apron of his.”

I close one eye and scrunch my face, but the grin spreading across my lips won’t be contained. “It felt so good. I didn’t realize how badly I needed this.”

“I did.” He reaches between us, grabbing my hands so the sheet falls away.

The cool air in the room instantly pebbles my nipples, but it’s when he licks his lips that they ache.

I hold my breath, wanting him to touch them.

When he slides my robe over my shoulders instead, disappointment, and maybe a little frustration, scrunches my nose.

What the hell is wrong with me? I had more orgasms in six hours than I had in six months, and I’m ready to spread my legs and hang a sign saying free entry.

“Come on, you little horn dog,” he laughs as he helps me from the table. “We have lots more to do today before you have to be at the theater.”

“I’m the horn dog? Who got hard because he heard me moan?”

“That’s just a physical reaction.”

Annoyed that he read me so easily and called me out on it, and maybe a wee bit petty, I gently…ish, backhanded his very physical dilemma. He coughs, bending over to grip the table. “Maybe that will help with your physical reaction.”

After a second, he stands upright, glaring at me.

Fingers wrap around my throat, pulling me to him, brushing my mouth with his.

My body heats, and an embarrassing amount of arousal drips down my legs.

“Hate to disappoint you, Halfpint, but your little love tap only made me harder.” His tongue rolls across my lips before diving into my mouth.

His hunger is only surpassed by my own as I press myself into him.

Then he stops. Just stops. No warning. No sign. It’s so abrupt, I nearly fall on my face when he turns me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Come on. We’re wasting valuable time.”

I’ve almost gathered my wits when he leads me into the sauna. “Why is it empty?” I ask, looking around the steam-filled room for signs of life. The few I’ve been in always have one or two other people, at least.

“I rented out the room for our session in case you wanted to get comfortable.” He waggles his brows with a smirk.

“And let me guess. You didn’t want anyone else seeing me naked? Even though I literally walked around wearing nothing but dental floss last night.” He makes a feral sound in the back of his throat, making me laugh. “Are you this possessive and bossy with everyone?”

“Only the ones who’ve been in my bed.”

“Oh, is that all?” I wave a hand in the air with a grin. “That’s what? Half of New York?”

“You want the truth, Halfpint?”

“Sure. Hit me with it. What are we talking? A few dozen? A few hundred? Thousands?”

“Damn, you think I’m just out there nailing anything that moves, don’t you?” He doesn’t sound amused, and it makes me feel a little guilty. Okay, a lot guilty. But why wouldn’t he? He’s a healthy, red-blooded guy with an appetite for sex. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“I’m not judging, Jagger. I get the one-night stand life.

I’ve lived it for years. Remember,” I lift my left leg and point my toes.

“Dancer schedule. Hookups are the closest thing I get to a relationship. I admit it’s been a bit of a dry spell recently, but I have a good sex drive, and no shame in taking what I want. Last year I was with probably—”

“Stop. For the love of God, stop. Fuck, I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Why my brother gets all growly over the thought of someone touching Casey.” He inhales sharply and exhales just as hard as he drags his fingers through his sweat-soaked strands. “I don’t want to know who or how many guys you’ve been with, like…ever. Just spare me that bit of oversharing, will ya?”

“Are you slut shaming me?” My arms fold over my chest as I glare at him.

“No. I’m telling you that I’m jealous as fuck, and the thought of you with anyone else makes me feel a little ragey.

You’ve seen what happens when I get ragey, right?

And for the fucking record, I might not be a goddamn saint, but you are the only person, male or female that’s ever slept in my bed aside from me. ”

“Seriously?” The word barely makes it out. I don’t know if I want to kiss him or bolt. Jealous of my past? The only person in his bed? It’s all so heavy.

That tight, panicky feeling from earlier is threatening to re-emerge when I feel myself lifted until I’m straddling his lap. “You know what’s so funny?”

“What?” I almost wheeze the words.

“Never in a million years did I think I’d trust a woman enough to let her into my bed. Let alone spend more than a night with her. But you’re the one who looks ready to vomit every time you realize how serious this is for me. Should I be asking who hurt you?”

“No. I mean, no one hurt me. Not really.” I shake my head, trying to get a damn grip because he literally just told me this is serious for him.

No hints. No suggestions or reading between the lines.

Six words say it all. “I’m not trying to be obtuse, but you’re using scary language when we’ve only just met.

” He tilts his head, acknowledging I’m right.

“And you were literally with two other women that I know of just last week.”

“Again, correct. Didn’t say any of it made sense, Halfpint.

Just trust me when I say whatever this is, I’m feeling, I don’t take it lightly.

I really don’t trust easily. Or willingly.

And I…” He scratches his chin. “I can’t explain anything except when you’re near me, the pain goes away. The anger. All of it.”

“Can I ask who hurt you?” I finally say.

“Nope. It’s not important.”

Well, I guess that he didn’t deny someone did something, right? But if this really is serious for him, shouldn’t he want to share? Do I want him to?

I mean, obviously I do. I have for weeks. But it’s not the same thing. Is it?